Spectres of the Living
by Midnight Bubbles
Summary: "I'd like to say that the zombie apocalypse made me crazy, but I'd be lying. If I'm being honest, I've always been a tad insane. Just a little. The apocalypse just served to kind of push me over the edge. But really, can you blame me?" One life, one choice, one step, one drop of blood... Can change everything. When fate gives you a push, you either go with it or shove right back.
1. Chapter I

_**A/N: **__Well hello children! Midnight Bubbles here! For any of those who've read my other stories, I am eternally sorry for not updating. I will get around to it. However, the latest season of the Walking Dead has inspired me to write this and so here it is! My last exams are almost over and I can see the light at the end of the tunnel so I've been more creative as of late. Hopefully in a few weeks I should have updates for my other stories! Yay! *Cheers* Hope you guys like, I don't know whether this story is worth continuing so based on the response I get, I'll update accordingly :) Thanks, and on to the story..._

PS: The story is about an O.C, but hopefully not a super cliche one, and a series of events that could change the fate of the apocalypse (*cue dramatic music*). Read on and you shall see... 

**CHAPTER ONE**

* * *

As much as I'd like to tell you that the zombie apocalypse was what turned me crazy, I'd be lying. If I'm being honest with myself, I've always been a tad insane. Just a little bit. The apocalypse just served to kind of push me a little further over the edge. But really, can you blame me? Corpses rising from the dead to feast on the living; it sounds like something out of a 'Goosebumps' novel. And here I was living it. Well, not really. 'Living' is a bit of a stretch; more like 'barely surviving'. But who was I to complain? Those poor bastards wandering around out there, searching for their next meal, without warmth, life, feeling, _purpose_. It was enough to send anyone to the loony bin these days.

* * *

"You know, you really should try to dress for your body shape," I advised, with a knowledgeable nod, "that style really doesn't suit you."

The woman looked at me blankly and said nothing.

"The whole mermaid style cocktail dress just makes your legs look _waaay_ too long for your body. You should consider something a little more formfitting." I pointed over to a rack of dresses on the opposite side of the room. The woman didn't bother moving, just gave me that look again.

"Hey, don't blame me for wanting to help a sister out here. We gotta stick together, you and me." I paused. She said nothing. Same blank expression. "Wow, for a mannequin you sure do talk too much."

The humanoid plastic figure stood in front of me, its presence and lopsided wig strangely comforting despite the shuffling I could hear outside. Shuffling and moaning. Their noise was constant and though I tried my hardest to ignore them, their threat was something that barely left my mind. My inane chattering to the dummies that stood before me was all I could do to fill the silence and mask their noise outside the department store that had become my sanctuary. The store wasn't what you'd call 'zombie-proof' quite yet, but I'd done my best. The entrances and exits were boarded up and every day I ventured out of the shop to kill a few more of the damned creatures and reduce their numbers little by little. Being several levels up in a huge shopping mall helped as the zombies down below couldn't smell or hear me, and therefore had no inclination to make the climb up the stairs. Or figure out how to use an elevator. I was pretty proud of my logic, but now I was stuck without sunlight and a limited number of social options. My lack of vitamin D was the least of my problems right now, though. I was running out of food.

* * *

My army of mannequins stood in front of me, dressed in their finest formal wear, James Bond tuxedoes for the men, deadly high-heels for the ladies, and looking at me with that goddamn blank expression on each of their faces.

"Hey guys, don't look so glum," I announced to them all in a falsely cheery voice. I reclined in my la-z-boy further, "the zombies may have eaten my entire family, but at least I've got you, right?" Silence was my only reply. "Well, fuck. Don't all comfort me at once."

Now, I know what you're thinking. A crazy lady who talks to mannequins, there's no way she could survive the apocalypse for long. Well, unknown reader of my story, I beg to differ. What's that saying again? Oh yeah – "The meek will inherit the earth." Or something like that. For me, meek equaled survival.

The department store was quite large, plenty of space to do whatever I wanted, though I usually just stuck with the area behind the counters. There was something about having those little mini walls around me, keeping me in the shadows and shielding me from the large expanse of mostly empty space around me, that felt like extra defense. I'd been there for over a month (a very long, monotonous month), combing through the shit I found, making piles of stuff I thought could be useful and piles of stuff that held no value whatsoever. The latter was significantly larger than the former. When the proverbial shit hit the fan, most people spent their last remaining hours stocking up on the essentials; food and weapons. Not many people fled to the department store thinking "Gosh, I need me some new clothes for this zombie apocalypse we're having. Wouldn't want to be caught DEAD in these clothes." Pun definitely intended. Lucky for me, I was a stupid son of a bitch and drove to work in my time of panic, thinking I'd try and salvage some of the extra cash I'd hidden there for safe keeping. Before I'd gotten the chance to leave this godforsaken building, the zombies had surrounded me and my isolation and mental decay into total insanity had begun. First, the television had stopped airing. That was my first sign that this was indeed the end of the world. Then, after hearing vicious and increasingly disturbing reports on the radio, that cut out too. External contact was at zero, nada, nothing. I could only assume that what I was experiencing in my isolated piece of the world was nothing compared to what was out there. And I was terrified.

The low level of light coming from the high set windows indicated that it was time to think about dinner. This used to be my favourite part of the day; food in all its delicious glory. But I wasn't currently very enthusiastic about it anymore. I wandered over to the table that held my food supply. Three cans of beans, a shit load of dog food I hadn't been desperate enough to try yet and a half empty box of chocolate that I'd found stashed in an employee's locker. So far, I'd been impressed with my own self-control about the sugary sweets – I hadn't expected them to last this long. To reward my efforts of self-control, I plucked one out of the box, ripped open the packet and promptly chomped down on the caramelly-chocolate goodness. Mmm. Still tasted just as good as when the world had been normal. I doubted there was much that could make chocolate EVER taste bad.

As I savoured my dinner, I looked over the other food I had left. Not much. This wasn't going to last long. I'd been thinking about making a move out of the store for a while now- I'd pretty much gotten all I could from the mall, there was nothing left here for me and I'd probably die here (whether from starvation, zombies or loneliness, who knew?) if I didn't move on to somewhere with more resources. I didn't really have any family outside of this place, so I was left with only one motivation; basic human survival instinct.

"One more night," I concluded. "One more night and I'm outta here." My mannequin army said nothing. "Sorry guys, it's been good while it's lasted. I don't mean to eat and run, really. But our time has come to an end. It's not you, I swear. Blame the apocalypse." I turned away from their accusing eyes and started the preparations. Tomorrow was going to be a big day.

That night, in my big, comfy, display bed, I could hardly sleep. I'd gotten used to the occasional growl or distant shattering glass in my time at the store, but that wasn't what kept me up. Knowing I was about to leave my sanctuary, my safety, my unlikely home, kept my brain running all night, coming up with nasty scenarios. As the sky outside the high window turned from midnight blue to a hazy pink hue, I decided it was time to make my move.

My backpack was packed and on my back. My wheeled suitcase was ready. My knife was in hand.

"Gina, Martha, Ferdinand, you crazy goose," I nodded at them each in turn, "Fred, George, Carlos. You've stuck with me for a while now. May the force be with you. May the odds be ever in your favour. See ya."

My goodbye felt both silly and inadequate at the same time. Inanimate objects they may be, but they'd been my only company for over a month now and their sentimental value had grown on me. I was sad to leave them. Alas, I gave them all well-earned high-fives as I made my way towards the small wooden doggy-door type opening I'd constructed haphazardly. Making sure the zombies were well out of ear – or nose – shot, I squirmed out and pulled my bags with me. This was it.

I knew I had to get as far as I could in order to find safety before my limited hours of daylight ended, but I took a good hour just getting OUT of the store. Zombies were left, right and centre. They looked extra hungry (not that I wanted to stay and find out if that was true), so I took my time. My knife stayed clean until I got out of the store, it was too risky to chance causing a ruckus when noise echoes so much in such a large, resounding space. As soon as I exited the mall, I wished I hadn't.

"Don't turn around and run as fast as you can," a low voice commanded, deep undertones of authority and menace laced underneath.

Stupid, idiotic, masochistic me had to turn around. "Wha-" I started but I never finished. A huge horde of zombies, dozens of them, were dragging their limp carcasses towards me down the street. Their hollow, glazed eyes stared unseeingly at me with trained focus and I could feel my heart beat faster as though it knew there was only a limited time to do so. Their snarling mouths opened and closed like fish, itching to close around my flesh and eat me limb from limb. A whimper escaped my mouth as I stood rooted to the spot. I'd never seen so many of them before. Not like this, in the open air, in daylight. Without a shred of knowledge how to deal with them.

"I said, run!" A hand snagged my arm and yanked me stumbling backwards. I turned properly and focused on regaining my footing as the figure in front of me pulled me at a sprint.

I couldn't help it. I screamed like the frightened, helpless little girl I was. I was only twenty-two for God's sake. Brevity and strength don't just happen overnight.

"Shut the fuck up!" The figure in front of me yelled back to me. They wore a long, trailing dark cloak that shielded them from my view, but at that moment I didn't really care. They were alive. I was alive. For now. The zombies were catching up to us and we ran like bats out of hell; we weren't fast enough. The urban streets of Atlanta were crawling with zombies in various states of decay and as we passed alleys and buildings, they all came out of hiding to join the party. The horde grew larger and larger as we ran, turning from a few dozen to over a hundred in but a few minutes. My breathing blew out of me in strangled puffs as my lungs struggled to pull back in the air necessary to keep me going. The person in front of me seemed to have an endless supply of energy as they ran, not bothering to wait for me to catch up. Just as I began to fall behind and lose hope of ever seeing another sunrise, the person turned a corner into an alley and disappeared from view. I almost careened straight past the opening, but managed to skid to a halt and hurry down after them just in time. The alley was empty, dank and dark. It smelled like rotting flesh.

"Get the fuck up here!" A voice thick with urgency and frustration called to me. I looked up with sharp relief as a scarred hand popped down. I grasped it as tightly as I could and used the jagged bricks to help clamber up the wall of the alley and onto a high, grated platform.

My lungs felt like they would give out and my heart was running faster than my legs had been moments before. I badly wanted to say something, anything really, but my body wouldn't allow it, so I sat back against the railing and studied my new companion.

Huddled protectively in his cloak, an old man sat before me, his azure eyes watching me closely with hidden depths that spoke of secrets and unknown motives. His crinkled face was stony and without emotion. For such an old man, he was barely even puffing after such a sprint, compared to my heaving, which I would have found embarrassing if not for the hundreds of undead monsters milling around below, scrambling to reach us.

"Who are you?" I asked, once I had regained my breath. "I mean, thanks. But seriously, who are you?"

The stranger withdrew his hood and sat down heavily, his breath whooshing out of him. "Fucking zombies." Man, this guy had quite the potty mouth. "Adrenaline's wearing off… shit… Come here."

I hesitated, my mind warring with the desire to be smart about strangers and the curiosity and want to help this old man, whoever he was. "For fucks sake, come here!" I jumped and edged as close as I dared. "Th' name's Wal, kiddo." He gave a racking cough that made me jump all over again. The cough turned into a laugh as he looked me up and down. "Jesus, jus' a little rabbit aren't ya?"

I gave him a questioning look and tried to think of a way to respond. Before my sluggish, chewed up mush of a mind could think of anything, he continued. "I got a job for you. You're not exactly the kinda person I had in mind, but you'll have to do."

"Listen, sir-"  
"Sir! Ha!" Wal gave a bark of laughter that sent the zombies below into another frenzy at the sound. I glanced down at them warily. "I haven't been called 'sir' in a while."

"Sir," I soldiered on, despite his odd behaviour, "We have to get out of here."

"Yeah, yeah…" Wal pushed himself up and started fumbling around in the satchel at his side. As he did so, his trailing black cloak fell back and revealed the gaping wound at his side. The edges of it were tinged in a sickly green hue as it leaked pus steadily. Blood stained the edges of his shirt and a bandage was falling off as I watched.

"Holy shit," I squeaked. "You-you're-"

"Oh this? Nothin' but a flesh wound," he grunted, head bent low as he continued to search his bag.

"Is it a- are you- did they-" I stumbled to voice the question that was burning into my mind.

"Spit it out, little rabbit," he mumbled.

"Are you one of _them_?" I asked in a hushed voice.

Another sharp bark of bleak laughter. "No, rabbit. Not yet, anyway. Best I get a hurry on though, wouldn't wantcha t' be caught with me turning on ya, huh?"

"Uh-"

"Aha! Found it, the little shit." With a flourish that defied his mortally wounded state, he withdrew a small vial. "This," he said in a hushed whisper, almost reverently. His eyes stared feverishly at the dark vial, wide and unblinking. "This is th' most important thing in your life from now on, got it?"

"What are you talking about?" I asked dumbly. This was happening too fast. The old man was obviously insane from the blood loss. "We need to get you a bandage or something."

Wal struggled to sit up further, which only served to aggravate his wound as blood flowed out from it in a steady stream, dripping through the grate and down to the alley below. The zombies grunted and opened their mouths towards us, greedily lapping up the dark liquid as it fell. I was going to throw up. Wal let out a sharp cry of pain and fell back with a thump. I jumped forward and awkwardly tried to help, but there wasn't much I could do.

"Enough," Wal swatted my hands away and remained slumped, having given up on sitting up. His face held defeat and immense exhaustion. "You must take this to th' CDC," he pressed the small vial into my hand, "Tell 'em this is th' answer. Th' cure." His words didn't really sink in for me. The situation was quickly deteriorating and my mind was switching between freaking out over the zombies below and the dying man in front of me. "You're th' only one standin' between those things," his eyes flicked to the restless creatures below us, "and the rest of our kind… what's left of us…"

The gravity of his words was starting to break through the barrier of absolute fear in my mind. The vial in my hand, a _cure_? It wasn't possible, there was no way. I'd barely processed the fact that there was a _disease_ in the first place. This was big. Not just big. _Huge_. Was it really possible that this man had given it to me, of all people, to transport this to the CDC? "There's no way," I blurted. "This is a cure?"

The old man rolled his eyes. On his deathbed, and he still had the energy to show me how stupid I was. "Fuck, jus' take it to th' CDC, that's all I'm askin', rabbit…" His voice grew slow and quiet. "Don't fuck it up." His eyelids drooped and his shoulder slumped further as I watched, horrified.

"No! No, no no…" I fluttered my hands over him, wanting to do something, but not knowing what. "You don't get it, I don't know even how to defend myself, I'm the _last_ person you want the fate of humanity to rely on. Seriously. Wake up. You've gotta do it." My frantic words were lost on Wal as he slowly slipped away from consciousness and into death's firm grasp. The flow of blood from the open and festering wound at his side began to ebb, and soon, the blood was barely dripping out, signifying that the old man's heart had stopped pumping. Tears blurred my vision as I opened up my clenched hand and stared at the dark vial. The liquid inside appeared to be red, was it blood? Small bubbles of air floated to the surface, resting underneath the tightly corked top. This tiny, seemingly insignificant thing held so much potential and it was in the palm of my hand. The bloodthirsty zombies below me feverishly gnashing their jaws towards me reminded me that I would be lucky if I made it out of this alley alive, let alone made it to the CDC alive. Fuck my life.

* * *

_**A/N: **__I'll keep it short, but I hope you guys liked it! I'm excited about this one :) Like I said before, based on the response I get for this first chapter, I'll update accordingly so let me know if you think I should continue! (Or if it's super shit and should die in a hole) Much appreciated. MB. _


	2. Chapter II

_**A/N: **Thanks for your responses guys! Nice to know people enjoy it :) The story will be in third person from now on, sorry for the switch but it just suits better I think, seeing as there are several characters now, rather than just from my OC's perspective in the first chapter. Anyway, read on!_

**CHAPTER II**

* * *

The geek's teeth were inches from his throat, its disgusting saliva mixed with old blood dripping onto his neck and slowly pooling above his chest. His knife was only millimeters away from his hand and his fingers felt like they would pop out of their sockets from stretching so far to reach it, but he couldn't get to it. The geek had him pinned down good, and the only thing stopping it from taking a chunk out of him right then and there was his other arm, barely holding it at bay by its nasty, half torn out throat.

Inches from death, and yet Daryl Dixon thought only one thing; _Merle's gonna kill me_. The thought of his brother was the only reason he was really putting up a fight in the first place. The chinaman had asked for his help on a run into the city to get some extra supplies before they made their move to search for the CDC. _Alotta good that's gonna do,_ Daryl thought, _I'll be eating their brains before they get there_.

"Daryl!" Glenn's voice called out from somewhere behind him. "Daryl, what do I do? I don't have any bullets left!"

"Get ma fuckin' knife!" Daryl grunted back. It was a good thing that dumb kid could run fast, otherwise Daryl wouldn't have had any use for him.

A strangled cry was the chinaman's response and Daryl knew it wasn't good news. So _both_ of them would die.

Just as the geek's persistent pushing on Daryl's arm was about to pay off, the strangest thing happened. The geek lifted it's head, sniffed the air with it's mottled nose and tilted it's head, as though listening to something. Daryl seized the opportunity to shuffle himself over a few inches and finally grasp the cool wooden handle of his hunting knife before swinging his arm up in a large arch and burying it hilt-deep into the zombie's skull. The heavy body fell limp on top of him and he pushed it off with a grunt before jumping up to search for Glenn. The group probably wouldn't trust him as much as they did if he left the boy behind.

"What _was_ that?" Glenn asked as he stepped around the body of his own walker. It seemed his assailant had shown the same behaviour as Daryl's.

"I got no idea," Daryl mumbled, wiping the blade of his knife on the clothes of his latest kill. "Let's get the stuff and get outta here."

Glenn gave a curt nod and began to gather the items he had dropped during the attack. Daryl walked over to his crossbow that lay on the side of the road and inspected it for any breaks; thankfully, it was fine. As he loaded another arrow, Daryl stopped and gestured for Glenn to be quiet. In the distance, a rumble of noise had begun.

"Is that-"

"Shh." Daryl went into hunter mode and crept towards Glenn, dragging him into the alley and flattening themselves against the wall. Daryl jerked his head toward the other end of the road and Glenn gasped in surprise.

A small girl, lean and short, was running full tilt down the road, hand grasping her wheely suitcase behind her and a satchel banging against her side with every step.

"Leave me alone!" She shouted back to the horde of zombies that pursued her. There was a large bloodstain on her shirt and her jeans were ripped and torn at, tattered material flying behind her as she ran. Her movements were jerky and erratic, one moment going this way, the next turning another way, though the zombies kept coming. Daryl thought she looked much like the rabbits he often managed to shoot for camp, hopping all over the place in their panic. But in the end, he always managed to shoot them right in the eye.

Daryl raised his crossbow and took aim.  
"What are you doing?" Glenn hissed sharply, not wanting to alert the zombies.

"D'ya hear how much noise she's makin'?" He grunted back. "That's why th' geeks were distracted before. She's jus' drawin' them out. Besides, there's no way she's gon make it. Looks like she's bit already."

Glenn swallowed loudly. "But- she's _alive_. You can't just shoot another human being. There aren't many of us left, you know."

Daryl ignored him and lined up the shot. Breath in, breath out. She was almost level with the opening of the alley, but Daryl had a nagging thought at the back of his mind. She was human. Of that there was no doubt. She was alive and kicking, and he was going to end her life. Could he do it? Daryl wanted to be as cut-throat and careless as his brother, because as Merle had told him, that meant survival in these times. But Daryl would be lying to himself if he tried to deny the feeling that killing another human that wasn't in self-defense was wrong. _No_, he told himself, _this _is_ in self-defense. If I don't kill her, she'll die anyway and her screamin' will bring a whole lotta other walkers to kill _us_ too. _With that thought in mind, Daryl widened his stance, centered the crosshairs and waited for her to run into his shot, past the entrance to the alley.

The moment came as if in slow motion. As she ran into the alignment of his aim, her hair a curled copper tangle behind her, her head turned as if she had somehow known her life was about to end, and her bright emerald eyes locked on to his. Her face was an open book that read of fear, panic and desperation as her gaze burned holes into Daryl. That crystal clear moment of clarity held Daryl's finger at bay for one wavering moment. But then the moment passed and Daryl pulled the trigger.

Quick as a flash, the arrow flew straight and true towards the girl. But at the last second, a walker jumped forward in an attempt to take a bite out of her. The arrow embedded itself in its skull and it dropped to the ground, dead, for good. Daryl cursed. He'd never missed such a major, sure fire shot like that before. But the anger was short lived as it gave way to fresh fear and urgency. The walkers who had been tailing the girl had been alerted to Glenn and Daryl's presence now; some of them had turned towards them in an effort to pursue some new prey.

"Daryl, we gotta go!" Glenn called. The chinaman was in his element now; running. Daryl followed close behind as Glenn led the way up the alley and through a broken gate at the end. It opened into a small courtyard with high buildings on either side.

"This way!" Glenn beckoned. A small window was smashed in at one side and Glenn slid in effortlessly. Daryl crouched and tried to do the same, though he was less graceful. Within seconds a dozen walkers had caught up to them in the courtyard and scrambled to reach them inside the window opening. In their urgency to get to them, the walkers made it difficult for each other to get through as they each tried at the same time to squeeze inside. Daryl stabbed one at the front with a knife and darted backwards as Glenn lugged open a heavy door behind them.

On the other side of the door was a trashed pharmacy; its merchandise was spilt everywhere and most of the important stuff had been taken. A small shelf of bottles at the back of the store lay untouched and Daryl quickly stuffed a bunch of them in his pocket as they passed.

"What are you doing?!" Glenn cried, his hand already on the front door to leave.

"Gettin' what we came for; supplies. Might as well," Daryl shrugged.

Glenn shook his head and they exited the store, turned right and jogged down the road. It was empty of walkers for once; Daryl knew it was because that stupid girl had lured them all to herself. He supposed he aught to thank her for that. Her death would have been a good way to thank her, instead of her turning into one of those things. But he'd stuffed that up, hadn't he?

"Do you think any of these cars have any gas and keys left in them?" Glenn asked as they rounded another corner and were further away from the horde.

"'Spose they might,"

"Let's check, it's getting late."

Glenn was right. They'd said they'd be back before midday and the sun was already at its highest point in the sky. Daryl helped the boy search the cars that littered the street. Lady luck was with them, it seemed, as they eventually came across a pickup truck with keys in the ignition and a half tank of gas left.

"I'll drive," Glenn said at once, hopping into the driver's seat and turning the car on.

Daryl walked around to the passenger door and hopped in, cradling his crossbow in his lap and notching another arrow. On the long drive back to camp, haunting emerald eyes swam at the forefront of Daryl's mind. On the one hand, he was relieved he hadn't had to kill another human being today. But on the other hand, she was most likely walking around with her emerald eyes now a hazed glaze, aimlessly searching until another meal wandered into the city. Daryl felt an unfamiliar wave of guilt roll over him. He'd been away from his brother too long; he was starting to go soft. _The bitch deserved it, _he reminded himself, irritably, _she set those geeks loose on us_. Content to let that be the end of it, Daryl didn't think about it any longer. So, when they got back to camp, he returned to his usual routine and set about finding some squirrels, ignoring the probing questions and curious looks he got when Glenn told the rest of the group about the girl they'd seen. Daryl could see the judgment in their eyes, the distrust and the fear. _I did it for ya'll! _He wanted to yell at them. _I didn't shoot her for the fun of it_. He was the only one keeping this camp alive, he swore. So instead of sticking around and putting up with the strange looks and glares, he went back to the only place he felt comfortable in this whole goddamn mess; the woods. There weren't many squirrels about, but he did find some berries and edible flowers that he snacked on as he wandered about, killing time. Tomorrow morning the camp would be moving out to search for the CDC. Until then, though, Daryl was going to stay as far away from them as possible. He wasn't exactly sure what was keeping him there, probably some misguided sense of responsibility because they couldn't fucking feed themselves without him. Merle and him had been planning on robbing them blind the second they turned their eyes, but that plan had gone down the drain along with the key to Merle's handcuffs. Daryl had thought about leaving a few times over the past week, but he'd never plucked up the courage to. Alone, he wouldn't be able to sleep properly, wouldn't have people at his back, people to cook and clean for him. But with these people, he could get some decent shut-eye every now and then at least. Sometimes though, the people there made all of that seem not worth it. That fucking cop, for one.

When Daryl wandered back to camp after hunting down a few furry animals (two squirrels and a white rabbit that reminded him of the girl in Atlanta, if only he'd managed to shoot her as easily), Shane came up to him.

"Where have you been?" He demanded at once, hard eyes and stony face glaring down at him. Simmering just underneath the surface, Daryl could see the rage, sitting there just waiting to boil over.

"What does it look like?" Daryl replied dryly, pushing past him and dumping his kills beside the campfire. They were cooking up all of their leftover meat and supplies so that they could eat on the road without worrying about cooking. Carol and Lori were washing some meager vegetables and averted their eyes after nodding their thanks.

"It looks like you've been wastin' time out there, havin' everyone out here wonderin' where you been." Shane gave Daryl's shoulder a shove to make his point loud and clear. Daryl resisted the urge to cuff him a few blows and knock some sense into him. The man couldn't see past his own blind pride.

"My time wastin' got us some dinner for another night. Whata you been doin'?" Daryl ground out through his gritted teeth instead, holding his ground and keeping Shane's gaze.

Shane held the stare for a few tense moments, and Daryl wasn't sure whether he would use his clenched fists or let it go. But then, Shane's eyes lowered and a mocking grin appeared on his face. "We're just packing up, man." The switch had flipped. His need to keep up his friendly exterior appeared to outweigh his instinctual desire to smash Daryl to the ground in some macho show of dominance. "Make sure you tell someone where you go next time." With that, Shane turned around and stalked away.

"Asshole," Daryl mumbled as he stomped back to his tent. Lori gave him a sharp glare as he walked past. Daryl didn't know how she could put up with sleeping with that guy, but at least _someone_ was getting laid around here.

Night seemed to descend upon the camp more quickly than it had before the world ended. Soon Daryl found himself seated by his own small fire, poking around some rabbit meat on his plate, not really eating, just staring into the fire and thinking about Merle. Daryl wasn't the cheeriest person on the planet on a good day, but thinking about his brother made him downright unapproachable. It seemed Glenn didn't pick up on the thoughtful scowl that graced Daryl's face. The lean boy wandered over nervously, picking his way through the various bushes and camp equipment before standing opposite the hunter.

"Uh, Daryl?" Glenn asked in a meek voice.

Daryl blinked away the last remnants of deep thought and wiped his face of emotion, looking up at the boy with a blank visage. "What do ya want?"

Glenn hesitated a moment. It was clear to Daryl that the boy had something on his mind, but he stayed silent and waited for him to spit it out. Finally, Glenn spoke up. "I've been thinking about what happened today…" he started, wringing his hands and shifting from foot to foot. His discomfort at being alone with the hunter spoke volumes. "Did you shoot that girl? I turned away for a moment and then the walkers were on us, but I can't shake the thought of her from my mind. You were right, she was going to become one of them. I just hope you managed to stop that from happening… you did, right?"

Daryl studied Glenn's face, wondering if it was his fear of _him_ or fear of what had happened today. He decided it was a combination, and that either way it didn't matter. He was about to tell Glenn that he had missed, that he'd hit a walker instead. But something stopped him. "Yeah," Daryl started instead. "Yeah, I hit her right in th' head. Waste of an arrow but it had t' be done."

Glenn looked to the ground for a moment and nodded. When he looked back up at Daryl his eyes had cleared and he gave the hunter a small smile. "Good, I think. I guess that's one less walker to worry about. She… she deserves that much."

"Damn straight," Daryl grunted and popped another piece of squirrel in his mouth. Glenn gave another nod and turned to walk away. "You did good out there, chinaman." Daryl called after him. Glenn turned to give him an acknowledging grin and walked away with a hop in his step. Daryl shook his head.

The next morning was a flurry of activity. As Daryl exited his tent and stretched away the knots in the tight coils of muscle in his shoulders and back, the adults of the camp were scurrying around like ants, moving things, making plans. There was a high level of nervousness and anticipation; nobody knew what to expect. The trip to the CDC could really go either way; civilization and hope, or desolation and nothingness. The children, on the other hand, were using the activity as an excuse to horse around a little, daring to venture further away from camp than usual while the adults weren't looking. As Daryl's camp was further back, his eyes followed them as they passed by further into the woods than their parents would have liked. Carol and Lori were busy washing the last of the clothes to notice and Rick was in the middle of a heated conversation with Shane. Daryl was about to call out to them to look after their little ankle biters themselves, but Glenn hurried after the children before he could do so.

Daryl started to pack up his own meager supplies and was halfway through when Rick approached him.

"Daryl," the cop greeted. Daryl grunted in response, too busy folding up the large tarp of his tent. "I just wanted to come over and make sure you're coming with us to the CDC. I know you might not want to after what happened to your brother," Daryl gave the man a dark look of warning, "_but_, as I'm sure you know, you're vital to this group. I know Shane doesn't show it, but he knows it too. We need you Daryl and I hope that you have seriously considered staying with us."

"Don't get your panties in a twist, I'm comin'," Daryl replied, rolling his eyes. "Save your pretty speeches for someone else."

Rick's shoulders sagged with relief. Daryl noticed the bags underneath his eyes and the way he held his face; grim and serious. He had stepped in to be the leader of this ragtag group and it looked like quite a burden. Daryl didn't envy the man.

"Thanks Daryl, I-"

"Daryl!" A voice shouted from the depths of the wood. "Daryl! Bring your crossbow!"

The hunter rolled his eyes once more. Would it ever end? Rick was in full cop mode by the time Daryl grabbed his crossbow and started to jog into the woods. Once inside, they found a very distraught Glenn holding Carl and Sophia at bay as they peered into the branches of a nearby tree. Daryl sauntered over with Rick hurrying quickly behind.

"What's the problem?" Daryl asked.

Glenn pointed into the tree.

A small figure was curled into a ball in the fork of the branches high in the tree top. The gently swaying leaves hid her face from view but it was clear she wasn't in good condition. Her jeans were torn and her shoes had left bloody footprints on her way up the tree.

"I saw her move!" Carl piped up with Sophia nodding her agreement.

"We think it's just a walker that got stuck," Glenn explained. "We can't reach her with a knife, and we didn't want to shoot her because of the noise. Do you think you could make the shot from here?"

Daryl was about to get his crossbow ready but something stayed his hand. A gust of wind blew through the clearing and moved the branches of the tree slightly, revealing the face of the figure in the tree.

"Aw shit," Daryl cursed.

It was the girl. So the walkers _had_ gotten to her. How had she gotten all the way out here? Daryl glanced at Glenn to see if he recognized her but so far he didn't seem to. Maybe it would be better if he didn't know.

"Move outta the way, chinaman." Daryl grunted, positioning himself at the foot of the tree. From that angle, her head was in clear view. Her porcelain face was smeared with dried blood and grime, giving her an animalistic look as her body clung desperately to the tree. If Daryl didn't know any better, he'd have said she looked almost alive up there, her body completely intact save for the scratches, blood and dirt. She was the best looking walker he'd seen so far.

"Damn shame," he mumbled, taking aim once more.

"Come on, Carl," Rick murmured behind him.

"But I wanna see!" Carl cried, struggling with his father.

At the shout from the boy, the figure in the tree stirred. From Daryl's vantage point, her eyes opened and she seemed to attempt to get her bearings, blinking her eyes groggily and raising her head. One second, Daryl had her in his sights once more, and the next, she had fallen straight out of the tree with a loud _whump_!

"Fuck!" The girl yelled.

"She's alive!" Sophia screeched at the top of her lungs, running behind Glenn fearfully.

Daryl couldn't believe his eyes. The woman lay on the ground, her arm beneath her, bent at a painful angle. Her head rose and she spat out a mouthful of dirt and leaves. How was she alive?

"Hey- you're that girl! The one from Atlanta!" Glenn called out, confusion evident in his voice.

Daryl was just about done with all these surprises lately. He raised the crossbow and aimed at her head. It seemed he was doing that a lot lately to the red head. "Don't move."

The girl seemed to realize her situation. "Couldn't even if I wanted to." Daryl glanced down at her arm that she was trying to wriggle free from underneath herself. It looked broken and she couldn't use it to try and push herself up properly.

Rick cautiously approached the woman and investigated her situation. "Are you armed?" The man asked, one hand on his holster and the other grabbing her satchel from her.

"No, I'm not armed. Unless you count the pocket knife in that satchel you just confiscated." The girl bit back at him, her voice thick with pain.

"How did you get here, then?" Daryl demanded of her, not lowering his crossbow. "I saw you in Atlanta, a huge mob of geeks on your ass. No way you made it outta there alive."

The girl turned her head and peered at him, her emerald eyes squinting. "You! You're the one who shot that zombie behind me! You…" her eyes widened, "you saved my life."

Daryl couldn't decide what was more awkward; being thought of as a hero, or the fact that he had actually been trying to _end_ her life.

* * *

_Yay! An update! Thanks for reading :) Please review ! Let me know if Daryl's character is accurate or not. Thanks x_


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